Little Girl By The Lake
by ThedaTheVamp
Summary: The little girl was identical to Dora, but his little sister had been killed in 1864. She was probably a vision, a ghost that managed to escape that little drawer of his memories that he never went near of. The guilt was too, too much. But this little girl by the lake... she had to be Dora. Currently on Hiatus!
1. Prologue

His first thought when he saw her was "just like mother…" and then when he took a closer look, it was as if he'd been slapped hard on the face with a pile of bricks. The little girl crouched down beside the water, playing with her own reflection was his little sister. Or she looked a lot like her… the same short raven hair with the bangs, the same fair skin and the same baby-like chubbiness and fat cheeks. The little girl was identical to Dora and he felt suddenly like all the pain and anger he harbored in himself, because he allowed her to die, because he hadn't protected her or taken care of her as he promised his mother on her death bed rush into his conscious. Dora was one of those forbidden drawers of his memories that he never touched, never revealed. Stefan, although he hadn't been half attached to the little girl as his older brother, never even spoke of her. He knew that the very thought of Dora could definitively kill Damon inside. Dora was much, much more than a sister to Damon. She had been his baby, his reason of living. And now here he was, probably going crazy… here he was staring at the beautiful image of a loved one he had lost in 1864.

"Hello there, little one… what're you doing here all alone?"

She looked up to him, puzzlement clear in her expressions.

"I don't know, I fell asleep and now I'm here." The voice was the same. He could never forget Dora's voice, her laugh, her smiles, those few moments of pure joy and his final moments of innocence.

Silence.

No one spoke a single word in what felt like a lifetime. It wasn't uncomfortable though, it was… the complete opposite. It felt _right_.

"What's your name?" She asked turning to him with a silly grin. Her eyes were huge and dark brown, just like Stefan's, just like their mother's. Her eyelashes were thick, long and curled. Kid probably would never need that make-up, with the round brush… mascara. Her eyebrows were thick, dark and contrasted with her skin, just like his. How could she not be Dora?

"My name's Damon, Damon Salvatore."

"Are you old or young? You look young but your eyes look real old." She said and he was surprised as ever. Grown-ups simply don't give children enough credit.

"I'm old. Very old."

"Old like these trees and this lake?"

"Not that old, no. I'm old like that bridge over there." He pointed and chuckled when he heard her gasp.

"Oh. You're a funny guy, Damon." They both smiled and laughed but he knew the moment she looked into his eyes that she believed in him.


	2. The Second Encounter

He found the young girl this time leaning over the bridge, arms folded so that she could sustain her little body while looking down. She was in deep concentration and the frown she bore didn't go unnoticed by Damon.

"Wanna tell me the reason why you're upset?" Damon asked as gently as he could. He bent down slightly and leaned on the rail.

"Who am I?" She suddenly asked, bursting out in angry cries, tears escaping those beautiful, big, brown eyes. "Where am I?"

"You're a child. You're a little girl who woke up after a long, long sleep in the middle of the woods." He could tell she wasn't yet satisfied.

"I don't have a name or a family or a pet monkey. And unfortunately I don't have a red jet plane either."

"Well, you know, most people when they're born have their parents choose their name. Sometimes beautiful names like Beatrice or Alice or Daisy. Sometimes no so nice names like Morticia, Sasquatch or Rumplestiltzken. You can choose your own name, isn't that nice?"

"Well, what do I pick? Those names you said are too girly Damon. What about Natasha?!" She exclaimed all of a sudden but Damon crinkled his nose. "What about Queen Elizabeth the Second?"

"I think that one's already taken, kiddo."

"Hmm, Emily?"

"Too common."

"Dylan?"

"Too boyish."

"How about something fancy and imperoyal? Do you know any good names?"

Damon knew plenty.

"That would be imperial or royal… Well, the Queen of Spain is Sofia, but I gather if you go to school you'll sit with ten of those. There's always Margaret, Teresa, Marie, Alexandra, Anne, Mary, Catherine… but don't choose that one, I used to know a Katherine who was no good, as evil and mean as they get. There was this one emperor Constantine, I like his story he had this one wife who everyone thinks came from the circus. Turns out, she was really smart and witty, not to mention beautiful…"

"She was from the circus? Really, that's so cool!"

"Yeah, her name was Theodora but her friends called her Dora for short."

"Dora?" Damon nodded.

"It's not bad. How do you spell that? If it's hard I don't want it." Damon chuckled and picked up a twig, writing out the name for her on some mud.

"D-O-R-A. I like it, Damon. It's easy. You're really good with names."

"Thank you… you have good taste."

"But I didn't even eat anything, how am I supposed to taste it?" Damon chuckled.

After that the two of them sat on a large stone by the lake, taking turns throwing pebbles in the water, in silence.

"Damon, why are you so sad?" Dora's voice was soft and laced with concern. Why did she have to make such difficult questions?

"I lost my best friend and he's angry with me… but that's not everything. There are many reasons, Dora… I'm old like that bridge, remember? Can you imagine a life as long as that thing is old with mostly sadness in it? A life with that much anger and that much loneliness?"

Dora didn't respond. She couldn't imagine.

"I have a brother named Stefan, he's old just like I am… I love him, he's my family and the only person I've got but—but we've hurt each other so, so much throughout the years that despite this love we have for one another it's hard to fully forgive and accept and move one. To be honest, he's proved to be better than me at it and I hate that. But I also admire him a lot… If it weren't for all this stuff I feel, I'd still be with Elena. I love her more than anything in this world. I've never fought for something or someone quite like I've fought for Elena. But at the same time as we're in love and happy or better yet, trying to be… all of this pain of mine, all of my past comes back and makes me do things that part of me hates doing and the other, feels the need to do it, because honestly, Dora, I'm really, really scared of having more pain."

"But what's the point when it hurts when you're not with Elena? At least when you're with her you're a little bit happier."

"It's not that simple."

"It's as simple as sticking your tongue out Damon and saying ah while looking at the sky. Either way you're gonna feel hurt. When the doctor pricks you with a needle you feel pain, but when you don't it's even worse because you actually get sick. It's better to take the needle because that pain will be quicker and it'll bring something good, it'll make you healthy. Sickness only makes you… hurt, sad, angry and stupid."

Damon was in complete awe. How could a kid think like that? How on Earth did she even understand a word that he'd vented? Why was a damn five and a half year old giving him a sermon?

"I know you're feeling stupid Damon, it's okay sometimes. I'm your friend, I won't hate you for it." And Damon felt her tiny hand pat him reassuringly on the arm.

Suddenly a sickening feeling, if possible, overcame him. This Dora wasn't a figment of his imagination, a ghost or a depressed man's hallucination—this, she was real. His Dora was really here.


End file.
